


and i could give you all the olive trees

by orphan_account



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Daisy Chaining, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gun Violence, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Ken Is A Full-On Super Villain Now, Kidnapping, Kissing, M/M, Panic Attacks, Project Blackwing (Dirk Gently), Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-08 20:46:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14701962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Todd opened his eyes to a vision of dancing white and yellow blobs.‘Daisies,’ he croaked.‘I told you to run,’ Dirk said.(Dirk and Todd get captured by Blackwing. It's no picnic.)





	and i could give you all the olive trees

**Author's Note:**

> I usually take dark stories and make them happy, now I've... taken a happy show and made it dark. Sorry fam. I've tried to keep the torture minimally graphic and mostly off-screen, but the violence gets more intense near the end. It's not all bad, there are lots of flowers. 
> 
> Title from [I'll Believe in Anything](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7G1eLTV89dM) by Wolf Parade
> 
> (See end notes for specific trigger warnings)

Todd opened his eyes to a vision of dancing white and yellow blobs.

‘Daisies,’ he croaked.

‘I told you to run,’ Dirk said.

Todd lifted his concretey head. Dirk was slumped beneath a nearby tree, an ugly, blackish bruise running from his eye to his jawline.

When the Blackwing grunts had swarmed into their hotel room, Todd had hurled his plate of butter chicken at them. It arced orangely over their heads and left a stupid splatter against the wall, by which point the grunts had them surrounded, and Dirk became a version of Dirk he hadn’t seen before – swearing, spitting, fighting, feral.

Now Dirk looked small and tired and normal. A few splotches of sunlight danced over his rainbow jacket.

With effort, Todd propped himself up on his elbows. They appeared to have been left in an overgrown garden, bordered by a tall, green fence. The lawn was long-unmowed, thickly tangled with daisies.

‘What the fuck is this?’ Todd said. Dirk closed his eyes and didn’t answer. ‘Did they hurt you?’

Dirk slowly shook his head. Todd tried to clamber to his feet, so he could go sit with him. Pain splintered through his ribs. He sat back down again.

‘We have to get out of here,’ he said.

‘We can’t.’

_‘What?’_

‘It’s not real. It’s an illusion. We’re in a cell in Blackwing.’

This infuriated Todd enough that he managed to stand up. ‘Of _course_ it’s real,’ he said. ‘There’s a gate right here!’

He limped over, slid the bright golden bolt. The gate swung open with a musical creak.

Beyond the fence was a winding path that led to a dark forest. Beyond the forest, Todd could see round rolling hills, and, in the distance, what looked like a little town.

‘See?’ Todd said smugly, and took a step forward.

He thwacked into an invisible _something._ His head snapped violently back. ‘Argh,’ he said.

‘There’s no use,’ said Dirk.

Ignoring him, Todd took a couple steps back to get a good run at the gate. The invisible _something_ was bouncy; Todd boinged off it and flew through the air. He landed on his back with a sickening crunch; all the air whooshed violently from his lungs.

‘Todd–’

Panting, Todd lurched back up. Fine. He’d just climb over the fence.

He gave up after escape attempt number seven, because his body had more or less stopped co-operating.

‘Don’t say a fucking word,’ he told Dirk, lying motionless on the ground.

And Dirk didn’t, which was so unlike Dirk it just made Todd feel worse.

*

‘What _is_ this place?’ Todd asked finally, sitting up. Dirk was still leaning against the tree, hands around his knees, staring blankly into the distance. Todd rubbed his reddened arm, wondered if skin could burn from a fake sun.

‘They call it Eden,’ said Dirk, voice leaden. ‘Ironically. They used to put me in here when I did well. Or. Extremely not well. I had a pretty bad panic attack after they knocked you out, so I suppose they put me in here to calm down. I don’t know why you’re in here too.’ He seemed to realize something, frowned at Todd. ‘I don’t know why you’re here _at all._ ’

‘I’m wanted too, right?’

‘Yes, but this is Blackwing. It’s supposed to be specials only. Does that mean–’

‘Doubt it,’ Todd said.

When they’d been free-wheeling across the country, waiting for a case to find them, Todd had gone off his meds. He’d tried, over and over again, to manifest his powers during his attacks, but it never worked. After one particularly horrific chainsaw hallucination, Dirk had insisted he take his pills again, and he’d been so over it by then that he’d acquiesced.

‘How can this place be fake?’ Todd asked. He picked a handful of grass, sprinkled it over his palm. ‘This _feels_ like grass.’

‘Some kind of multi-sensory illusion. I don’t know how they do it. When I was young I thought it was real, but you can tell from little things. The bees.’

Dirk pointed to the garish pink roses near Todd’s head, where a bee was meandering. Todd watched. It _was_ kind of moving in an odd, jerky way, like it was getting stuck in the air.

But he could _smell_ those roses, smell the grass and fresh earth. What kind of resources did Blackwing have to be able to make a prison this luxurious?

A _prison._ They were _prisoners._

Dirk had never talked about his last trip to Blackwing, but Todd had been able to guess what had transpired.

He did not want it to transpire again, thanks very much.

Todd got to his feet and kicked the rose bush, making it hysterically rain petals. ‘Fuck! This has to be – illegal, or something, right? We’re innocent. They can’t imprison us without a conviction!’

‘They’re the CIA,’ Dirk said dully. ‘They can do whatever they like to us.’

Todd kicked the bush again. A rose head dislodged and to the ground.

‘LET US OUT,’ he yelled at the sky. Nothing.

‘I’m sorry, Todd,’ said Dirk.

‘S’not your fault.’

‘They were after me. And there were signs, warnings, I just – didn’t read them right. Stupid,’ Dirk muttered, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Todd looked at him. The rare times Dirk had talked about Blackwing, uncharacteristic fear and hatred had twisted his voice. He realised Dirk was probably much more upset than he seemed.

‘Well. For Blackwing, I guess this isn’t... bad,’ Todd said half-heartedly, gesturing at the freaky garden, aware he’d probably sound more convincing if he hadn’t just been screaming at the sky.

Dirk didn’t answer.

‘I just wish they’d find something for us to do ‘til Farah breaks in and and rescues us,’ Todd went on, still trying for cheery. But Farah was still in Bergsberg, and even when she worked out they were missing, what could the tiny Bergsberg police department do to stop the CIA? ‘We’re going to get bored as hell in here.’

As it turned out, though, boredom wasn’t going to be their biggest problem.

*

Todd lifted his shaking head to glare at the three people in front of him. The leader, ‘Mr. Priest,’ had this hideous scar down the middle of his face, like someone had tried to slice him in two.

Todd hoped they’d cut real deep.

‘I don’t know,’ he rasped,  ‘why you think fucking _electrocuting_ me will convince me Blackwing’s a great place to lure my sister.’

Mr. Priest gave a little wave to the masked man with the remote, who casually reached out a gloved hand, and turned up the dial another notch. Through the sound of his own screams, Todd could hear Priest laughing delightedly, like a little kid on Christmas morning.

*

When they hurled Todd into the cell hours later, Dirk was already there. He got up, wincing, to help Todd stumble over to his cot. Todd checked Dirk over for signs of damage – he looked very, very pale, but otherwise okay. Dirk was doing the same to him.

‘What happened?’ Dirk said urgently, sitting on the edge of his bed. Todd lay back against the thin pillow.

‘They asked me about a million questions and electrocuted me whenever I gave the wrong answer,’ Todd said. He tried to make his voice brash and blasé, scared of what would happen if he let himself break even a little. ‘Which was most of the time. You?’

Dirk just nodded bleakly. ‘Priest’s back. He’s bad. I’m sorry, Todd.’

‘Please stop saying that,’ said Todd. Dirk didn’t answer, just got up and limped over to a small table, returned with a bottle of water and a plastic plate of crackers and cheese. Todd took them gratefully. He was starving.

‘Eurgh, how old is this cheese?’ said Todd, grimacing. It was like leather. He tried a cracker, which was so soft it was almost floppy.

‘I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to it,’ Dirk said. ‘The catering here leaves much to be desired.’

‘Just as long as it’s not _this_ same shit every day,’ said Todd, and Dirk winced.

*

After several days of regular rendez-vous with the interrogators, Todd woke up in the garden. His bones still seemed to crackle with electricity; his muscles seared and trembled. Relief swelled sweetly up in him when he realised where he was.

He turned to see Dirk, curled up facing away from Todd, daisies bobbing and swaying around him. Todd didn’t understand why they weren’t separated yet – surely isolation would break them faster – but he was grateful not to be alone.

What had kept Todd going all this week had been knowing these Blackwing fuckers clearly had no idea how to find Amanda and the Rowdy Three. For the first time in his life, Todd was glad Amanda hadn’t really forgiven him. It meant that he had no idea where she was – he had her phone number, but she still wasn’t returning his calls – and if they got to her, she might do the smart thing and run.

So Todd hadn’t broken. He highly doubted Dirk had, even though Dirk knew much more valuable information than he did. In the past he had hinted that he was in contact with several other special people.

‘They’ve educated themselves quickly,’ Dirk had said a couple nights ago. ‘Last time they had no idea how my powers worked. Now they know I sort of attract other specials, so they’re trying to use me to bring them in.’

It might work, Todd had thought. People – well, people besides Todd – tended to trust Dirk easily. (It was impressive enough that Todd trusted Dirk at all. People who couldn’t be trusted didn’t tend to be very trusting.)

He wondered, with an uneasy flip of his stomach, if this room had maybe been _created_ for Dirk and other child prisoners. Dirk had only once mentioned he’d been in here as a kid, but Todd knew he’d been here for years. Todd could barely imagine what it would feel like to grow up in a prison, let alone in fucking Blackwing.

Truthfully, he’d assumed, now that Priest was in charge and Dirk was an adult, that they wouldn’t be back in this room again. He’d assumed people who loved torture didn’t believe much in positive reinforcement.

‘Do torturers take Sundays off or something?’ he asked, and Dirk lifted his head.

‘Todd,’ he said in surprise, his eyes clearing. ‘You’re still here.’

‘I thought about leaving early,’ said Todd. ‘Seemed kinda rude.’

Dirk kind of smiled. 

‘You’re ever so tough and sardonic, Todd,’ Dirk said. ‘When I was younger the only other conscious prisoner I got to see was Mona. She was lovely, but we rather tended towards hysterics.’

Dirk tended to talk about extremely horrible things that had happened to him as though they were funny things that had happened to someone else. Todd thought of two little kids huddled together in this fake room, trying not to cry, and felt nauseated.

Dirk’s eyes widened suddenly. ‘We used to make _daisy chains!_ Not the boring, linked kind, the thrilling, _plaited_ kind. Do you know how? Shall I teach you?’

So together they picked daisies, while Dirk babbled cheerily away.

(‘I can’t believe anyone could like other flowers more than daisies. Roses have thorns, for example, and they’re sort of show-off-y. Daisies grow everywhere in the world, did you know? Well, not in Antarctica, apparently. But – does anyone know for sure? Has anyone actually _been_ to Antarctica?’ ‘Yes, Dirk. They have.’)

Todd was glad Dirk was acting more like his old self again. He looked at the blood dried on the collar of Dirk’s jumpsuit and wondered how a person was able to retain any level of optimism after spending his childhood in a place like this.

Maybe, he thought, Dirk hadn’t always been so good at it.

‘There,’ Dirk said eventually, and reached up to rest his crown on Todd’s head.

‘Thank you,’ said Todd, framing his face with his hands and fluttering his eyelashes. ‘I feel beautiful.’

Dirk just stared at him, expression unreadable.

‘I get it,’ said Todd, grinning. ‘Flower crowns don’t suit me. You could at least be tactful about it, dude.’

Dirk flushed. ‘It suits you fine,’ he said awkwardly, and Todd laughed. Typically English, to be horrified at the thought of lacking tact.

Todd’s crown, when he finished it, was significantly more deformed than Dirk’s, but he put it on Dirk’s head anyway.

He grimaced. ‘Eurgh. Looks like a cow puked on your head.’

Dirk laughed, full-body, and his crown slid askew. Todd leaned forward to adjust it, and Dirk flinched, his eyes momentarily dark and confused, before he realised what Todd was doing.

‘Oh,’ he said stiffly. ‘Thank you.’ He hugged his knees to his chest like he was cold. Todd realized he must still be jumpy.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Shouldn’t be making sudden movements, huh.’

‘What?’ said Dirk. ‘No, thats okay.'

They chatted aimlessly for a while – well, mostly Dirk chatted, about Farah and Tina and Hobbes, and how they ought to go to a rave when they broke them out (news to Todd – hadn’t Dirk said he hated raves once?) Todd sat there, lazily listening and watching clouds.

At some point Dirk took the crown off his own head and stuck a bunch more daisies in it. When he put it back on, they rose straight up out of his hair, like lots of tiny antennae.

‘You look ridiculous,’ Todd said, although (the sun was close to fake-setting, making flyaway strands of Dirk’s hair glow reddish-gold and his lashes glint faintly in the sunlight) that wasn’t actually true. His chest gave a strange little shiver. Oh no, he thought, tearing his eyes away from Dirk. What?

It was nothing, some symptom of prolonged imprisonment, a sign he was starting to go mad, probably. He looked back at Dirk and the feeling was gone. He just looked like his best friend again, an idiot with something resembling cow puke on his head.

*

It had been a fortnight now of the same routine, and their captors were cranking the dial up higher each day ‘til the very air seemed to crack around Todd, ‘til the world flashed before him like it was strobe-lit. His emotions were draining away, leaving only hyper-vigilance and exhaustion. In the mornings, as he waited for for them to burst in again, he felt so brittle he was close to shattering. And afterwards, he wasn’t a person any more, just a pile on the floor, praying to lose consciousness.

Dirk seemed to be handling it better than he was. More and more lately, to pass time in the evenings, Dirk would talk to him. Todd found that helped, a little.

Todd would lie very still in his hard cot, careful not to move in a way that would disturb his fragile, aching body, and listen to Dirk’s stories.

Tonight, while Todd chewed grimly on cardboardy cheese, Dirk told him about his very first case. After he’d escaped Blackwing as a teenager, he said, he’d lived on the streets until he met a woman called Veronica, who lived in a dumpster.

‘And the universe kept telling me to talk to her, even though at first she was a little, um, bite-y. And it turned out she was a former inventor and philanthropist, whose millions had been stolen by _pirates_ , would you believe. So we ended up, er, _borrowing_ a cruise ship–’

Or Todd might have dreamt that entire conversation. That was the problem with Dirk. He was so unlike anyone else Todd had ever met that Todd sometimes wondered whether he would wake up to find Dirk had never existed at all.

*

Todd had not seen Priest for a while. Today, he was back in the white, glowing interrogation room again, smiling faintly at Todd, his eyes unblinking. Even through the messy, limp haze that his mind had become after three hours of torture, Todd’s chest went icy with fear.

Priest smiled wider, showing all his white teeth.

‘It’s really not that much we’re askin’ you, Castor,’ he said. ‘A tiny little piece of information. A single phone number. Is that really worth all this _pain_ and _misery_ , honey?’

When Todd didn’t answer, he shrugged and turned away. ‘Let’s try somethin’ new today, boys.’

The _something,_ Todd thought, his chest feeling cold, could be anything. And whatever it was he would be powerless to resist.

The something turned out to be a small, silver hammer.

‘I’m gonna break every single bone in your hand, sugar,’ said Priest happily. ‘This your good hand?’ It was. ‘Not gonna be so good after today, is it?’

‘Please. I can’t tell you anything,’ he sobbed, over and over, watching the hammer gleam. He needed his hand, he needed it for his music. ‘I don’t know anything.’

‘Not – good – enough,’ said Priest, and the hammer began to fall.

And as Priest worked methodically on Todd’s hand, he kept telling the grunt with the remote to turn the dial higher and higher.

It was like time had been beaten and cracked and warped, seconds exploding out into agonising decades.

Finally there was quiet again.

‘Todd,’ Dirk was saying, his hands stroking Todd’s face. His hand was a throbbing nightmare. He didn’t dare look at it. ‘Todd, you’ve got to take your medicine now or you’ll have an attack.’

They at least had not denied him that. Probably because dead he was not much use to them. And the pills they gave him here were better than the ones Todd had used. Since he’d been in here he hadn’t had a single attack.

Todd looked at Dirk’s hands as they unscrewed his medicine bottle. They were both whole and unbroken, looking pale and almost ethereal in the scant light. He trembled a little with relief.

Dirk helped Todd put the pills in his mouth, swallow a little water, before letting him collapse back on the pillow.

It was good, Todd thought, that they were still together. This way, if one of them was really bad, the other could look after him. But what if they were both really bad one day? What would they do then?

‘Shh,’ said Dirk. Had Todd been speaking aloud? ‘It’s okay, Todd, you did so, so well. You’re okay now.’

He was still stroking Todd’s hair. Todd turned his head towards Dirk’s palm.

‘Didn’t tell them anything,’ he said hoarsely.

He thought Dirk might be pleased to hear this, but Dirk just looked even more miserable.

‘Todd, don’t–’ he began, but then broke off, swallowed hard. ‘You know, I could tell you were awfully brave when I first met you,’ he said instead with a faint smile.

‘When you broke into my apartment?’

‘In the hotel.’ Yeah, Todd remembered. _He’s your best friend._

Todd was a shitty person to choose as a best friend. If Dirk had chosen someone else, maybe things wouldn’t have worked out so fucking terrible for him.

Being in Blackwing was making Todd hate himself more and more every day. He knew this was wrong, knew he should be hating _them_ , but they all looked at him with such palpable disgust, and were so pleased when he hurt. And maybe, on some level, Todd understood. Maybe he did deserve this.

*

‘I’ll never be free of Blackwing, will I?’ Dirk asked him one day.

Things had gotten better, if you could use that word. Priest hadn’t showed up in either Dirk or Todd’s interrogation chambers again. The ache in Todd’s right hand had receded over the past week or so; although it looked a fucking mess, it seemed to be healing. He thought – hoped – he’d still be able to strum his guitar okay. When they got out.

Dirk had been quiet all week. Todd remembered how incessantly cheery Dirk had seemed when he first met him, like a human Everbulb.

‘You don’t know that,’ said Todd stubbornly. ‘When we get out, we’ll recruit other specials. Take ‘em down.’

Dirk was quiet for a while.

‘I used to get so confused,’ he said eventually. ‘I still do, sometimes. I couldn’t understand how they could hurt me, but then be kind. They’d let me spend time with Mona and Francis, or bring me to Eden. Occasionally they’d even let Mona and I stay there together, for days. It was like holidays,’ he said dreamily. ‘We’d write plays together, and Mona would play all the parts.’

Todd felt a strange, ridiculous twinge of jealousy. What was he jealous of? He’d never liked the theatre.

If Dirk had gone to his high school, Todd realized, he would have been the _most_ theatre-y theatre kid. Teenage Todd, who’d sported greasy bangs and spent all his free time melting shit with his lighter, would probably have _despised_ Teenage Dirk.

But Dirk wasn’t in school, was he, when Todd was a teenager? He was in here.

‘She could be anything, you know,’ Dirk was saying, ‘dragons, armies, eerie mists – she was marvellous. When I went to a real play after I got out, I was _so_ disappointed.’

‘Why didn’t Mona break you out, if she could be armies?’ said Todd.

‘She did, in the end,’ said Dirk. ‘But they – were good at making us believe things. That we were too weak. That we wouldn’t survive.’

‘Was Priest in charge?’ Todd said. ‘When you were here as a kid?’

‘For a bit,’ said Dirk distantly.

It was clear he didn’t want to talk about Priest.

‘Fucking hell,’ said Todd.

‘It wasn’t as bad as now,’ Dirk said. ‘It was mostly just being alone, and doing tests. Even when Priest was here, he’d only ever hurt me when I really deserved it.’

Todd imagined Dirk as a child, curled up in a tiny ball in the corner of his cell, shivering as Priest called his name through the keyhole.

Anger filled him, vast and uncontainable. How could a government organisation be this fucking evil? How could any of them live with themselves? He wanted to soak this place in gasoline and watch it burn.

‘You didn’t _ever_ deserve it,’ Todd said shakily. ‘You were a kid.’

Dirk didn’t reply.

Todd wanted, suddenly, to ask about Dirk’s parents. About his time before Blackwing. Wanted desperately for Dirk to tell him someone had been around to read him bedtime stories and keep him safe from harm, like there had been for him and Amanda.

‘I’m really glad I met you, Todd,’ said Dirk unexpectedly.

Todd looked over at him, and Dirk was looking at him all –

Dirk sometimes looked at Todd like he was – a lot of things he wasn’t. Todd might be better and braver around Dirk, but he was still a deeply selfish coward at heart. Maybe, he thought grimly, after a while in here, Dirk would see that too.

He shook away those thoughts.

 ‘Same here,’ he said, and managed a smile. He realised that he had never told Dirk that before, and also that it was kind of an understatement.

*

Dirk was keeping track of the days by scratching notches into the wall. One day he said, very quietly, ‘Two months.’

Todd didn’t say anything back. Neither of them wanted to voice the hopeless feeling that had crept over them both. That this time Blackwing had grown too powerful. This time there was no one who could save them.

Another week passed slowly by. Then, one morning, the grunts exploded in and Todd braced himself, but just one pinned Todd against the wall while the others swarmed for Dirk. When the door slammed, leaving a clanging echo, Todd was left alone.

And the next time they came it was the same, and the next. They stormed in, grabbed Dirk, and left Todd behind.

He told himself he didn’t know why they had lost interest in him.

But deep down, he knew.

They must have found Amanda.

He imagined her standing among the Rowdy Three with her chin and fists raised as the Blackwing soldiers advanced. She would never let them see her fear if she could help it.

He forced himself to stop thinking about her, because if he did he would start crying, and he didn’t know how long it would take him to stop.

Deep down a question was whispering – _And now that you’re useless to them – what will they do with you?_ – but he didn’t let himself think about that for long either.

It’s okay, he told himself, shaking a couple pills into his hand. This is okay. Now that you’re not being tortured, you have enough energy to look after Dirk.

Only, all Dirk wanted to do when he came back into the cell that evening was sleep. And the next evening, and the next. Each night Todd would hear them unlocking the door, and spring up to catch Dirk in his arms, help him stagger to the bed. Dirk felt increasingly frail in his arms. He would tumble into his cot and his eyes would instantly flutter closed. He was speaking less and less.

Another thing Todd didn’t let himself think was that maybe, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t really help Dirk at all.

*

Dirk shot up in bed one night. Todd, who had been lying awake, said,

‘What’s wrong?’

Dirk was sweat-sheened and trembling. ‘Something bad is going to happen, Todd.’

‘You mean something worse than what’s currently happening?’ said Todd grimly, shaking a couple pills into his hand.

‘Yes, Todd, yes, something – something–’ said Dirk, and his eyes were wide and terrified, his fists clenching in the sheets.

‘It’s okay,’ Todd said, but Dirk’s breathing was growing laboured and thin, like how Amanda sounded when she was having a drowning attack.

It sounded like he was dying.

Todd dropped his pills on the floor and didn’t notice.

Once, he thought distantly, he could have stayed calm and detached in this sort of situation. That was what you were supposed to do when someone was having a panic attack. You were definitely not supposed to start panicking too.

‘Dirk,’ he said, panicking, ‘Dirk, it’s – please, it’s okay, I’ve got you, it’s going to be okay.’

Dirk shook his head frantically, tears in his eyes. He was starting to hyperventilate violently, his chest rising and falling far too rapidly.

‘Can I,’ said Todd desperately. ‘Can I touch you?’

Dirk nodded. Through his haze of panic he was looking at Todd like – like he thought Todd could save him. It made Todd’s heart hurt, because Dirk shouldn’t – look at him like that.

For a mad, confused second he thought of kissing Dirk – of softly cupping a hand around his jaw, leaning in softly til their lips met – but instead he just reached out and held his hands. He could feel Dirk’s pulse jack-hammering – ‘It’s okay,’ he said again, uselessly, and after nothing happened he took Dirk’s right hand, held it to his own chest. ‘Breathe with me,’ he said, and after a long, long while Dirk’s short hiccupy breaths unstuck slightly, grew chokily slower, and then he was breathing in great gulps and his face was wet as he pressed it against Todd’s throat.

‘It’s okay,’ Todd said for the millionth time, like saying things could make them true. ‘I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay. We’re going to get out of here.’

*

One thing Todd could do to help, he realised, was talk. He wasn’t a natural talker like Dirk, but Dirk’s chatter had helped Todd when the pain had been almost too much. So he combed his memories for interesting stories. The issue being his life was pretty much one long string of nothing, the only interesting detours being all the times he had fucked people over.

So he mostly talked about his childhood. He’d used to get so excited about his family’s summer vacation by the sea: body-boarding and swimming races; dreaded day-long hill-walks his parents always insisted on; fishing, which was fun until Amanda deemed it animal cruelty by suffocation, which put Todd off it too; Todd turning Manda into a mermaid by building her a fish-tail of sand and seashells; Amanda, once, convincing Todd to let her bury him in the sand up to his neck, and then running away, giggling demonically. He’d forced his way out, and thrown her off the end of the pier as revenge.

After he’d exhausted those memories, Todd moved on to high school. He told Dirk about skipping class with Mark, his then-best friend and future co-founder of The Mexican Funeral **,** to jam and attempt to write songs; his awful, embarrassingly earnest lyrics, mostly love songs for a girl he’d been in love with back then named Saskia Zheng, who had come to see him and Mark play once and actually agreed go out with him, but then dumped him three weeks later, spawning a break-up album so full of angst it rivalled The Smiths.

That one actually made Dirk smile a bit.

‘First love, huh,’ said Todd.

‘Mmm,’ said Dirk noncommittally.

‘Who was yours?’ Todd said, suspecting Dirk wouldn’t like this question. But the only damn thing they had left to do in here was get to know each other, and there were so many things he didn’t know about Dirk.

‘Todd,’ Dirk said eventually. ‘I – haven’t had a normal life.’

‘Believe me, I know,’ said Todd, laughing.

‘But you don’t,’ said Dirk fiercely. ‘You _don’t._ And you wouldn’t want to hear about it anyway.’

‘But I–’

‘Trust me,’ said Dirk, his voice choked. ‘You want me to have had a happy, normal life like you, or at least happy-ish and normal-ish but I haven’t, Todd, and you won’t understand in the least and it’ll just make you all – sorry for me.’

‘You know what,’ Todd said after a while, ‘I’m not so happy or normal either. I mean – before I met you and Farah, I’d had no friends for years. My whole family hates me now. And I might die in this place. I don’t think I have much pity left that isn’t for myself.’

And Dirk sighed.

‘No,’ he said, ‘I haven’t been in a relationship.’

‘Okay,’ said Todd. ‘Thank you for telling me.’

Another long pause.

‘How many – relationships have you been in?’ Dirk said uncertainly.

‘I dated a girl called Lucy for two years in college. She broke up with me when the band split. And I dated this guy called Liam in high school.’

‘Guy?’ said Dirk, several decibels too loud.

‘Yeah. Liam O’Brien. He was really sweet. Liked me a lot. I didn’t treat him great,’ Todd said, feeling the cold, increasingly familiar curl of self-loathing. ‘I wish things had been different.’

‘I didn’t – I didn’t know people did that,’ Dirk said. ‘Date girls and guys.’

‘Oh, yeah, tons of people do that,’ said Todd, wondering for the millionth time what exactly Dirk had been up to all these years that he hadn’t discovered bi- and pan-sexuality. ‘Sexuality’s a crazy spectrum. Or – more like an explosion or something, I don’t know.’

‘Right,’ said Dirk carefully. ‘And – people don’t mind?’

‘I mean, some people mind,’ said Todd, ‘but only the real fucking shitburgers.’

Dirk nodded – his lip quirked up, but just barely.

*

Another week passed. Blackwing seemed to have entirely forgotten Todd existed. Today, as usual, he spent all day pacing around the stupid cell, lying down at brief intervals but feeling so unbearably restless he bounced straight back up again, kicking his plastic plate against the wall over and over until it splintered.

He heard the door unlocking, and ran forward. As the door opened, Dirk fell hard against him – Todd only barely kept his balance.

‘Todd,’ Dirk said, tears streaming in trails through his dirty cheeks. Todd held him tight.

‘What’s the matter? Are you hurt?’

He looked Dirk over urgently. Besides the dirt Todd couldn’t see any signs that they’d hurt him worse than usual. No blood. No broken bones. Thank fuck. Dirk stumbling into his room covered in blood was something Todd dreamed about most nights.

‘Todd, I – I did something bad. Oh, God, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry–’

‘No,’ Todd said, too loudly, making Dirk flinch. He lowered his voice. ‘Whatever you did, it’s not your fault.’

‘It _is_ my fault. helped them get someone.’

So he had finally given in, then. Todd’s heart sank, not because of what that meant to him, but because of what he knew it must mean to Dirk.

‘It’s not your fault,’ he repeated, fiercely.

Dirk shuddered. Todd could feel his tears on his face.

‘It’s okay,’ said Todd, and held him tightly. ‘It’s okay, it’s okay,’ he said uselessly. Just another fucking lie, he thought.

*

The next day they took them back into Eden. The room was reset as usual, all the daisies fresh and unpicked.

They had made so many damned daisy chains that Todd sometimes woke up with his fingers plaiting together imaginary stems.

‘I don’t know about you,’ Todd said, ‘but I’m fucking sick of daisies.’

Dirk rolled over, eyes half-closed, lashes glinting in the sunlight. ‘I don’t mind them,’ he said softly, and he trailed his fingertips over the flowers, making them bob and shiver.

*

Dirk was getting weaker, and Todd was afraid.

They still had enough food, enough water, but it was like the life force was draining out of him anyway.

As Dirk lay curled up on the bed, Todd would stroke Dirk’s hair, just as Dirk had stroked his, and talk in a soft voice about anything that came into his mind. Sometimes Dirk’s breathing evened out into sleep, and that was when Todd found himself talking about things he’d never told anyone else before.

He talked about his dad, who’d used to send Todd detective novels in the mail but hadn’t been returning his calls for months now, and his mom, who still came around to see him but sometimes looked at Todd with this dark doubt in her eyes. He talked about the hatred in Amanda’s eyes when he’d told her the truth, the hatred he knew he’d never forget, never.

He talked about Dirk himself. How he’d made Todd care about things again.

‘Don’t get a big head, though,’ Todd added, watching Dirk’s eyelashes flutter as he dreamed of someplace far away. ‘You’ve also brought vast amounts of frustration and high blood pressure into my life. Not to mention all the mortal danger.

‘There’s so much I didn’t ask you. I wish I’d – I wish a lot of things. You’re a special person, Dirk. I know that sounds like sarcastic bullshit coming from me, but I’m not trying to be sarcastic.

‘God,’ he said, laughing a little, ‘I’m talking like we’re both fucking dying.’

He looked at how loosely Dirk’s jumpsuit fit him, the dark circles under his eyes.

Maybe, he thought, Blackwing had stopped caring whether they survived or not.

*

Not long after that, the interrogators came for Todd again.

Todd fought as viciously as he could, although he barely had the energy to raise his arms above his head. Something was pressed over his mouth and nose, and by the time he’d realised it was chloroform, the world was swimming away.

He woke up strapped to a metal chair, in a bright blue room he’d never seen before, facing – a man. A man he vaguely remembered, from –

‘You,’ he said, bewildered. ‘You’re – the guy who  – fixed the time machine?’

The guy gave a half-smirk. Resting on the arm of his chair was a small, black remote with a red button. ‘Please, call me Mr. Adams. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Project Castor.’

‘Sorry,’ said Todd, ‘I’m just – trying – to get my head around this. Aren’t you that freaky assassin’s sidekick?’

He wouldn’t have remembered him at all – barely remembered anything from that night owing to the haze of pain and adrenaline – if it weren’t for the little knowing glance they’d shared. _‘You with crazy too?’_ He’d, however briefly, felt a _connection_ with this guy.

A grimace twisted Adams’ face. ‘Project Marzanna,’ he said, ‘is not our present concern.’

God, he hated that, the fucking re-naming thing: like they’d torn away their identities and replaced it with their own sick version of who they were. What they were.

‘Aw, you gave us _all_ nicknames?’ he said.  ‘Cute.’

Adams pressed a button and Todd felt a familiar warning buzz tickle around his earlobes before electricity splintered through him. He expected it to go on and on as usual, but a few seconds later Adams shut it off.

‘No offense,’ Todd gasped, gesturing limply at Adams’ remote, ‘but you guys are super uncreative with your torture methods. It’s getting boring.’

‘I favour electrocution, as it’s effective, clean, and easy to control,’ Adams said curtly. ‘But believe me, my colleague, Priest, can be extremely inventive when it comes to pain infliction. Almost an auteur.’ He smiled faintly. ‘You should see what he’s done to some of the other projects, it’s almost exhibition-worthy. But with you two, I’ve set strict limits.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘For the time being.’

‘So why am I here?’ said Todd. ‘For a chat? I get it. Must get lonely when your only buddy’s a sadistic psycho.’

‘Careful, Castor,’ said Adams, smiling, his finger resting ever so lightly on the button. Todd flinched despite himself, and Adams’ smile widened. ‘I’m here to talk about Project Icarus.’

‘You mean Dirk?’ said Todd. ‘You can call him Dirk, that’s his name.’

‘It’s not his name, though, is it,’ said Adams idly, running his finger in circles around the button. ‘It’s a lie, like most things about him.’

Todd hadn’t known that, and he felt disoriented for a second. ‘It’s still his name, though,’ he said after a beat. ‘Him choosing it it doesn’t make it any less his name. Makes it _more_ his name _,_ when you think ab–’

‘Enough,’ said Adams, standing. ‘Icarus remains minimally cooperative. My _deranged psycho_ friend, as you call him, is eager to up the ante, try out some new, ah, _tools_ on Icarus–’ Todd’s heart seized up– _no, no–_ ‘but I’ve long suspected a different method would be _much_ more effective. That’s why you’re here.’

‘What the fuck do I have to do with it?’ Todd spat, and Adams smiled.

‘Oh, Castor, he didn’t tell you? The only reason you’re still _alive_ is because of Icarus.’

Todd stared. ‘What,’ he said airlessly.

‘He’s really a fascinating subject,’ Adams continued, pacing thoughtfully around the room. ‘His powers are very unusual, and he consistently responds to our methods in ways that are totally unique.’ He looked back at Todd. ‘Your presence amplifies his abilities, did you know? He’d be much less powerful on his own. He’s also, very _irritatingly,_ significantly weakened when he’s feeling “unhappy”.’

He did air quotes around the sneered word, as if prisoners feeling unhappy in a torture facility was some sort of make-believe concept.

‘Hence this _ridiculous_ situation. Blackwing being forced to _pamper_ a dangerous asset.’ He scoffed.

‘So why torture him at all?’

‘We always have to strike a fine line between breaking subjects in, and, ah, literally – _breaking_ subjects. Beyond the point of usability, I mean. It’s a fine science,’ said Adams, eyes widening like this was a delightful topic of conversation. ‘And Project Icarus is an _extremely_ delicate little snowflake, as I’m sure you know, so it’s an _extremely_ fine line between making him use _ful_ and rendering him use _less_.’ Adams smiled. ‘But I’m happy to say I think I’ve toed it. I’ve pushed him farther than ever before without risking total breakage. He’s already helped us bring in several valuable projects.’

‘What the hell did you do to him,’ Todd spat, writhing against his bonds. ‘To make him betray them. What kind of fucked-up shit–’

Adams laughed.

‘Oh, can’t you guess, Castor?’

‘I can’t guess how your mind works, because I’m not evil.’

‘You sure?’ Adams said lightly. ‘That stuff you did to your poor family…’

Todd flinched. Adams smiled coldly and strolled over to look at a computer monitor, a black screen writhing with tiny grey symbols.

‘We threatened to kill _you_ , Castor,’ he said eventually, his back still to Todd. ‘Which remains, of course, eminently possible. Now that Projects Pollux and Incubus are under custody, you’re of barely any use to us.’

‘Amanda?’ Todd said frantically. ‘Please – is she okay?’

‘So,’ Adams continued as if he hadn’t spoken, stalking back to Todd’s side, ‘our threat almost came to fruition several times, as Dirk was made well aware. And as it turned out, he valued your life above the freedom of his friends,’ said Adams. He ruffled Todd’s hair. ‘Sweet, no?’

‘Monster,’ said Todd, and the word was so weak, so fucking weak. He wanted to say something to make the man crumble, to plunge through him like a knife.

But the word, to his surprise, had some effect. Adams’ face gave a displeased spasm.

 _‘I’m_ hardly the monster here. If it weren’t for me you’d be much worse off. Priest wanted to abolish the imaginary garden you two like to frolic around in. You have me to thank for that.’

Todd spat on him. He was aiming for his face, but he was shaking so violently with rage that he missed.

Adams grimaced in revulsion, pulled out a Kleenex and wiped the spit off his shirt, then pressed down hard on the remote in his lap.

When he finally relented, Todd’s eyes were wet and his teeth were chattering.

‘Careful, Castor,’ Adams said. ‘Or do you want me to revoke your Eden privileges?’

‘I don’t give a _fuck.’_

Adams raised an eyebrow. ‘And Dirk’s?’

Todd thought of Dirk trapped in that cell, maybe never to see light again, and sagged.

Adams laughed. ‘You’re as bad as Icarus, aren’t you? This is almost too easy.’

‘Why did you even bring me here?’ Todd said in a low voice.

‘Oh, _yes,’_ said Adams, sitting back in his weird throne, stroking the remote like it was a cat. Todd kept forcing himself not to brace each time Adams’ fingers glided near the button. ‘I got distracted. You’re more fun than I expected, Castor.’ He leaned forward.

‘We have a quandary. Icarus is increasingly unresponsive, barely responding to our interrogations. His powers are shutting down, which is less than ideal if we want to round up the remnants of the forty-two. So you’re going to persuade him to help us.’

Todd laughed bitterly. ‘Why would I do that?’

Adams steepled his hands, rested his chin atop his fingers.

‘Because if you don’t persuade him within twenty-four hours, we will kill you while he watches.’

Todd blanched. ‘No,’ he said.

‘I know,’ said Adams lightly. ‘Distasteful. Sincerely, I didn’t want it to come to this. Not a fan of killing, not at all. But fortunately my, ah, _friend_ gets a real kick out of it.’ He grinned brightly.

Todd had sworn at some point that he wouldn’t cry in front of Adams, but that hardly seemed to matter any more.

‘You can’t,’ he said. ‘The government won’t allow it.’

Adams ignored him, pressed the device on his ear.

‘Take Project Castor to Eden, please. He’s got some important work to do.’

*

‘Dirk,’ Todd said desperately, stumbling through the garden to reach him. Dirk was badly bruised. Dark blotches burned around his wrist where someone had grabbed him, swollen, angry purple stains around his eye. And handprints around his throat. He wasn’t moving.

No. No.

Todd fell to his knees beside him. Dirk stirred, squinted up at him. ‘Hi, Todd,’ he said, his voice blurred and sweet.

‘Are you okay?’ Todd said.

‘Yeah,’ Dirk said dreamily. ‘S’nice in the sun.’

But the ‘sun’ sickened Todd. Right now he hated this room and its pretend freedom more than anything. He didn’t want to lie down, he wanted to fucking break everything.

‘Why the fuck are you so _happy_ ?’ Todd shouted. ‘These people are _monsters._ This place is _hell.’_

Dirk’s face fell, and he pushed himself up onto his elbows, which trembled faintly. ‘I know,’ he said softly.

Todd shifted until he was behind him. ‘Lean against me,’ he said, and so Dirk leaned back against Todd’s crossed legs, tilting his head back to smile faintly up at him.

‘I don’t understand how you can even smile,’ Todd said, thinking of Adams and all that he had said. ‘What is there to smile about?’

Dirk looked up at Todd with big, wistful eyes. ‘Whenever I’m in that interrogation room,’ he said. ‘I get scared maybe I’ll never see sunlight again.’

‘It’s not even real,’ Todd said in disgust.

I know,’ said Dirk, and settled back into Todd’s lap, closing his eyes. ‘When I was a teenager, when Priest was the only one in charge, he abolished this place for a year. I spent all my time alone in my cell, and I’d just – I thought I’d never see the world again. So – so I suppose – compared to that, this is nice.’

‘A whole year?’ said Todd. ‘How old were you?

‘Thirteen,’ said Dirk.

Todd pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Thirteen. Too young. Heartache mingled with rage mingled with a deep, aching helplessness. So much cruelty that had been done in this world, and it would always go on and on. Evil, he thought, would always win, it was too strong and relentless and the good were too few and too weak to defeat it.

I’m not going to be like them, he thought, bowing his head. I’m not going to help them make the best person I’ve ever met turn against everything he believes in.

‘Oh, Todd, don’t, it’s all right,’ said Dirk helplessly, a hand curling tentatively around his wrist. ‘Really it is. I know – this is all new to you. Sometimes I forget how hard it must be for you.’

‘I’m going to kill them,’ Todd said in a low, cold voice that sounded quite unlike his own. ‘When they come for me I’m going to fight and I’m going to kill them.’

Dirk’s grip on his wrist tightened. He said, sharply, ‘Don’t say that.’

‘You can’t stop me,’ Todd said.

‘Todd,’ said Dirk, distressed now, his eyes rapidly filling with tears, ‘if you try anything like that, it’ll be – so bad. Please,’ he said, and grabbed Todd’s hand. ‘Please don’t.’

‘It’s okay,’ Todd said, forcing his expression to clear, and squeezed his hand back. ‘Don’t worry, of course I won’t. I didn’t mean it.’

He could see Dirk believed him. Of course he did; Todd was an excellent liar. It was the only thing he’d ever been good at, really.

But Todd had made his decision. He wasn’t going to tell Dirk about Adams’ fucked-up ultimatum. He wasn’t going to force Dirk to choose: Todd was going to choose for him.

*

Todd tried to be normal over the next twenty-four hours, although he was aware he was distant and strange. He didn’t sleep at all; knew there was no point in trying.

When they were both sitting on Dirk’s bed eating crackers, Dirk said, with eerie perceptiveness, ‘What if we die in here?’

‘We won’t,’ said Todd. ‘They need us too much to let us die.’ One of them, at least.

‘Todd,’ said Dirk. ‘There’s something I – I need to tell you.’

‘What?’ said Todd, and Dirk kissed him.

Todd made a surprised sound, but kissed him back without a second’s hesitation, raising a hand to thread his fingers through Dirk’s hair and keep him close.

Dirk was a little uncertain and awkward, but Todd didn’t mind. He wasn’t sure if he was Dirk’s first kiss, but he thought maybe he might be. The thought made his heart ache strangely.

They kept bumping noses, which made Dirk giggle a bit, but Todd found he couldn’t even smile. He just kept kissing Dirk, insistent and solemn and painfully earnest. He liked the feeling of kissing Dirk’s laugh.

After a while he cupped Dirk’s jaw and brought him closer, and then Dirk stopped smiling and began kissing him properly, slow and sweet. They kissed ‘til Todd’s lips were numb, but still he wished, helplessly, that they could go on and on, that the day wouldn’t break.

*

The grunts came in the morning, as usual, but this time there were more of them. One half split off and swarmed around Dirk; the other half seized Todd and hauled him off his bed. He caught a glimpse of Dirk’s white face before he smelt chloroform.

He woke up in some kind of metal chair. Priest and Adams were both there. Priest was pointing a gun at Todd’s head; he became aware of the sound of Dirk pleading.

‘What are you doing?’ he was saying. ‘What’s–’

Adams thwacked his own gun hard against Todd’s head. ‘You little liar. Too selfish to do what we asked, even after we asked so nicely. Well, that’s too bad. I guess he’ll have to make his mind up in the next sixty seconds.’

There were two things that Todd had underestimated about today, when he’d planned to fight back.

The first thing was how securely he’d be strapped to the chair this time. Metal restraints made it impossible for him to even move his head a fraction.

‘Tell me what?’ said Dirk frantically. He had not been strapped to a chair; he was still standing, held by three masked grunts. ‘Todd?’

‘Castor was supposed to ask you a question on our behalf,’ Adams told Dirk. ‘What was it, Castor?’

Todd snarled up at him. Adams nodded at Priest, who stepped out of Todd’s sight, then casually and brutally brought something heavy down against Todd’s right hand. The one they’d already broken. Several bones snapped loudly. He screamed.

‘Don’t hurt him,’ Dirk was begging, voice cracked and dry, tears streaming down his face. He looked destroyed. ‘God, _God,_ please don’t hurt him.’

The second thing was just how much of an impact this whole situation might have on Dirk.

Priest giggled, making the gun rattle against Todd’s head. ‘Hurt him, honey? Aw, we’re gonna do _much_ worse than that.’

‘You p-promised,’ Dirk said, turning to Adams, lip trembling. ‘We made a deal, we–’

‘The deal, Icarus, was that you’d co-operate.’

‘I _have_ ,’ Dirk shouted rawly. ‘I’ve betrayed _six_ fucking people for you.’

‘And yet,’ said Adams. ‘We have on record that you have fraternised with _at least_ thirteen more. Among them, several with desirable powers.’

‘We’re runnin’ out of time, sweetheart,’ Priest said, grinning. ‘And I’m gettin’ _antsy.’_

‘Please,’ Dirk said.

‘Don’t tell them anything, Dirk,’ Todd shouted.

Priest tutted, and shot Todd in the foot.

Todd screamed. And then there was a sudden gap in his sensory input, like missing a step on the stairs. Everything felt shimmery and strange. Then his senses came back to him, but the pain he had expected didn’t come. His foot felt intensely hot and strange, he could feel it pulsing, but that was all. Shock, maybe.

‘Stop,’ Dirk was shouting. ‘Don’t – I’ll help you.’

‘We need you to help _harder_ ,’ Adams said coolly, and from the corner of his eye Todd saw him nod at Priest. Priest raised the gun and gleefully shot Todd in the lower ribs.

Todd felt it this time.

The air shimmered and distorted; bloodspots hovered in front of his eyes. It took him a long time  to realize he was screaming.

‘Don’t worry, honey,’ Priest said into his ear, stroking Todd’s cheek with the barrel of the gun, ‘that one won’t kill you. It’ll just really, really hurt you.’

Distantly, Todd could hear Dirk talking.

‘Iosefa Mapu,’ Dirk was saying desperately, while Ken frowned and scrawled on a tablet. ‘He’s a healer, his parents run a business in Tonga, I can tell you–’

‘No,’ Todd mumbled, his tongue thick and slow.

‘We don’t particularly need a healer,’ said Adams coolly. ‘How about the bomb? There’s a war coming, and we’ll need better weapons.’

‘D-Dirk–’ Todd said.

Dirk shook his head frantically at Adams. ‘Please–’

Through a wave of pain, Todd felt Priest press the gun to his head again. The world stilled. He heard a resounding click, which seemed to echo on and on –

‘No,’ Dirk shouted.

Todd’s lips were frozen, but out of madness, or sheer stupidity, he spoke. ‘Don’t tell them, Dirk.’

They’ll kill me anyway, he didn’t try to say aloud. Dirk looked away from him.

‘I can get you the bomb,’ he said.

‘Don’t,’ Todd said, ‘please–’ Dirk ignored him.

‘Alice Hinston. She’s good at hiding, but – she t-trusts me. She’ll come if – if I convince her to. Please. Please put the gun down.’

‘Great,’ said Adams coolly, and the cold pressure against Todd’s head lifted. His guts churned, and he dry-heaved.

‘Shame,’ Adams said, and kicked Todd’s leg.

It was strange, really, that this, this tiny little kick, was what finally triggered his attack.

Suddenly all the nerves in his body were firing like they had been set alight, and he recalled that in the misery of the night before he had forgotten to take his medicine.

His foot blared with agony; his hand pulsated; the wound in his chest felt like it had ripped all the way down his stomach; logically he knew it couldn’t have, but the pain, oh the pain, he was screaming and slipping and –

– he was underwater, floating in the deep of the ocean, beneath miles and miles of water, it was crushing him –

– he _knew_ , he knew it wasn’t real but oh, he could _feel_ it, feel himself drowning –

– a hand was gripping his shoulder hard, shaking him violently –

‘Todd –’ said Dirk from far away, and Todd could suddenly _see_ him, treading water opposite Todd, bubbles streaming from his mouth, voice muffled and distorted by the water, ‘Todd, it’s an attack, breathe, you can still breathe –’

– he nodded, tried to take a breath – ice-cold water flooded direct into his lungs –

‘Todd,’ Dirk was screaming. ‘Don’t. Please, Todd, don’t die–’

He couldn’t go – Dirk needed him –

– he was choking, choking, trying to inhale but all he got was more water, water filling him coldly –

– oh, how it hurt, every part of him, it was too much –

He remembered, distantly, someone saying that. ‘The pain was too much, so I took us out of our bodies.’

Out, he thought. That’s what I want, to get out of my body, and he remembered the sensation, with Amanda in Wendimoor, of being tugged _up,_ like when he was a kid and Dad had hooked his hands under his arms to swing him onto his shoulders.

He looked up. There was cool, blue light filtering down from above the ocean. _Up_ , he thought, and the thought was like air. _That’s all I have to do._

He kicked desperately, swam with all his might for the surface –

Far, far beneath him Dirk was still shouting his name, but he was fainter and fainter –

Todd burst upwards into the bright blue, choked violently, gasped in air. Oh, air, air again. The water was inky black, but the sky – the sky was pure shifting prismatic lights, a blue aurora borealis that echoed on for all infinity.

He’d been here before. With –

‘Amanda?’ he called out, but his voice rebounded endlessly off the endless black space. It was just him. Alone. All alone with the universe.

But maybe, from here, he could _get_ someone, like Amanda had. Someone to save them. He just needed to work out how.

Dimly he was aware that back on Earth he was still dying, blood pooling on the floor beneath him.

He swam helplessly around in the black ocean.

‘Amanda,’ he shouted again, but nothing. ‘Rowdy Three – Someone. I need your help. Quick – How do I _get someone_ – what’s the use in being here if I can’t _STOP THEM –_ ’

He thrashed his arms in the water, then stilled.

‘Please,’ he said in a hollow voice. ‘Someone, please, help us, I need someone –’

And he realised, belatedly, that he was moving.

The water he floated in was not still; it was moving in a slow current.

This was not an ocean; it had an edge, and he was drifting towards it. He heard the rush of a waterfall. He was going to go over it.

He felt strangely peaceful about it. _Just take me where I need to go,_ he asked the universe.

He fell.

And – he was staring at Dirk, there was blood on his own hands –

He was falling –

He was underwater again, but this time it was a strange, glowy green. There was a figure in front of him, hovering, her hair floating up in odd angles.

 _Was_ that an angel? She was all in white; she glowed unnaturally.

Yes, he decided, definitely an angel. She should be some help. He grabbed her arm and pulled up with all his might.

*

Todd and the angel plummeted to the concrete floor of the interrogation room.

Dirk screamed, fell back, and, Priest, Adams, and the five grunts in the room all pointed guns at the angel’s head. The angel, who was dripping wet and in a straitjacket, grinned around at them.

‘Air is nice,’ the angel said conversationally to Todd. ‘Thanks.’

She leaned down and punched Todd’s arm. Todd whimpered and curled away from her.

‘S’good to see you too, Dirk.’ She yawned and shook herself like a dog. ‘Hi, Ken. Hey, Priest–’

_‘Fire.’_

Todd heard a fierce hail of gunshots and cowered, but when he looked up Dirk was unhurt and the angel had somehow freed herself from her straitjacket, the five grunts were lying motionless and bloody on the floor, and the angel was pointing guns at Priest and Adams.

‘What – the – fuck,’ Todd said hoarsely. What the hell kind of angel was this? He’d never read the Bible, but weren’t they supposed to, like, bring peace to earth?

‘Come on, now,’ the angel said, nudging at Priest’s head with the barrel. ‘You guys are gonna help me, okay? ‘Cause you know what happens if you don’t.’

Todd tried to look at her better, but his eyes kept sliding shut.

Everything was fading, the colour draining out of the world.

It was bad, Todd thought distantly. Whatever he’d done, just now. It had ended him.

‘Todd?’ said Dirk, dropping to his side. ‘Todd, say something.’

Todd moved his lips a little.

‘That’s not really a something,’ said Dirk. He sounded terrified. ‘Please, Todd–’

There was a rattle on the door.

‘Aw, you called back-up?’ said the angel, grinning madly at the two men. ‘Shall we say hello?’

She made to press the door button with the muzzle of one gun, then paused and looked back at Dirk and Todd.

‘Get him into the bathroom, Dirk,’ snapped the angel, and then turned back to the door.

And then Dirk was carrying him across the room and opening the door of the bathroom. The door was wood; it didn’t look particularly strong. Todd held Dirk tightly.

‘Both of you stay as low and far back as possible,’ the angel ordered.

Dirk set Todd on the tiled floor of the bathroom. The door to the interrogation room slid open, and just before Dirk slammed the door closed, Todd could see rows and rows of soldiers, all aiming their guns at the angel, and Todd murmured again, ‘No’–’ but it was too late.

Dirk crawled in front of him – shielding him. ‘Don’t be stupid,’ Todd tried to say, but the gunfire began, and all sound was drowned out.

After a long time, there was silence, and he heard cackling.

‘Come out, guys,’ the angel called. ‘Don’t mind the blood.’

Dirk picked Todd up again and made a small, frightened sound at something. Todd didn’t see it; his eyes had slid closed again.

‘You go that way,’ the angel suggested. ‘I’ll keep ‘em busy.’

‘Fucked-up – kinda angel,’ Todd murmured, after she’d rounded the corner. He leaned against Dirk’s chest.

Dirk said something, and although Todd couldn’t make it out, he could feel the vibrations of his voice through his jumpsuit. He closed his eyes. _Keep talking,_ he thought. _Just keep talking to me forever._

‘ _Todd_ ,’ Dirk said again. ‘Can you hear me? Did you just call Bart an _angel?’_

*

‘You’ve _met_ Bart,’ said Dirk reproachfully, as he hurried down the hallway with Todd in his arms. Every step filled him Todd with another white-hot jolt, and he was trying not to grunt too much. In the distance he could hear gunfire, shouts and heavy thuds, and Bart’s maniacal laughter.

‘Not – really,’ Todd protested through gritted teeth.

‘I hope I never end up in your heaven, Todd.’

‘Avenging – angels. Are – a thing.’

‘You know, you’re getting slightly more talky than before,’ Dirk told him happily. ‘That’s better than getting less talky, I suspect. Okay, I need to do a thing now.’

He stopped, swiped the bloodied key-card he’d stolen from Priest into a black slot beside a metal door. It slid open, and Dirk stepped inside and rested Todd very gently on the ground.

‘Just wait here a second,’ he said. Todd closed his eyes again. A bit later he heard a crazed whoop, then several more.

Then – ‘He’s just over here, actually. He’s been shot a few times but I think he’s –’

‘Todd.’ He wrenched his head up to see familiar, Kohl-lined eyes looking fearfully down at him.

‘Manda,’ Todd said, managing a grin. Blood spilled down his chin.

Amanda grimaced, squeezing Todd’s hand very tightly. ‘We need to get him to a hospital.’

‘I’m taking care of it,’ said Dirk. ‘But we need the the five – three – of you to let all the other prisoners out. The soldiers have guns, but Bart’s on top of it. If you stay away from the fighting you should be all right. Think you can handle that?’

The Rowdy 3 threw back their heads and howled. Dirk handed Adams’ keycard to Amanda and saluted her, then stooped picked Todd up again.

‘You’re stronger – than you look,’ Todd told him.

 _‘Slightly_ backhanded compliment, but thank you, Todd,’ Dirk said, and tried to push a set of doors open with his back.

‘You’re being – very bad-ass,’ said Todd. ‘It’s – hot.’

Perhaps if he hadn’t been flooded with endorphins he wouldn’t have said that. Who knew? Honesty seemed important right now.

Dirk stopped struggling with the doors and stared at him. Todd couldn’t tell if the expression was confused or horrified.

‘Should probably keep escaping, though,’ Todd said.

*

They waited on the grassy roadside. Todd was dimly aware of Dirk stroking his hair. Somewhere, a little way away, he could hear the buzz of other people; but he was too shattered to turn his head. He could barely even focus on their surroundings.

There was a lot of blurry green and blue. Real grass, he thought briefly. Real sky. But his thoughts kept breaking into fragments as the adrenalin pulsed around his system; the pain was still everywhere, encircling him, hugging him tight and bleeding through him; his head throbbed, burning hot one second, ice-cold the next.

‘I need. Distract me,’ he grunted.

‘O-okay,’ said Dirk. ‘Well. One time, you asked me about my mother.’

Todd tried to make an encouraging sound.

‘She was, Serbian. Very tall and pale, with curly dark hair, and this duck-shaped birthmark under one eye. She ran a restaurant, but we fled to England when soldiers invaded our village. She,’ Dirk hesitated. ‘She had a very beautiful voice. Deep, sort of husky. She’d sing me to sleep.’

Todd nodded. Amongst the pain, a little bubble of peace was rising up. Dirk had had someone, once. He opened his eyes to watch him.

‘As I got older, things went – wrong, around me, a lot,’ Dirk said softly, eyes lowered. ‘I’d inconveniently show up in the worst places. I was first to the scene after a fairly horrific murder when I was seven, and Mama and I were brought in for questioning.’ His jaw clenched, he looked down. ‘That was where it all started to go wrong.’

Todd hesitated, then said, ‘Where is she now?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Dirk quietly. ‘I’ve spent years looking.’

‘Maybe,’ said Todd, ‘I could help you find her.’

Dirk’s face contorted and he shook his head, but before Todd could say anything else Dirk’s eyes darted to the road, fixed on something in the distance. ‘The ambulance is here.’

‘Dirk,’ Todd realized as the ambulance pulled up. His heart began to jack-hammer in his chest. ‘We – we can’t go with them. We have to run.’

‘We’re not running,’ said Dirk, with a new, authoritative calm. ‘You need medical attention, Todd.’

‘They’ll arrest us,’ Todd said frantically.

‘No.’ Dirk waved at the people sitting on the curbside. ‘You know Eden? The garden thingy?’

‘What does–’

‘I met someone,’ Dirk said. ‘Who’s going to change everything.’

*

‘ _Hiii_ ,’ said Dirk, bursting into Todd’s hospital room with a wheelchair, which escaped from his grip, sailed across the room and crashed into the opposite wall.

Todd squinted up at him. ‘What are you _wearing?’_ ’

Dirk wrinkled his nose and tugged at the collar of his oversized Hawaiian shirt.

‘A nurse let me borrow this,’ he said. ‘It’s desperately lacking my trademark Gently pizzazz, isn’t it? But everything else they had was so dull.’

Today was the first day they’d eased back on Todd’s meds enough that he was able to have a proper conversation. He wasn’t exactly sure how long he’d been in here – he recalled looming doctors’ faces and hands gently bandaging and un-bandaging his wounds. Being seized with terror each time he woke up that Blackwing would find them. But Dirk had showed up and kept reassuring him things were going to be fine, that they really were safe, and Amanda and all the other prisoners were safe too.

Now Dirk crashed into the chair next to Todd’s bed. ‘How are you?’ he said anxiously. ‘How’s the pain?’

‘Pretty much drugged into oblivion,’ said Todd. This wasn’t quite true – his foot and chest throbbed, but less sharply. ‘I don’t know what they’ve been giving me but it is _great.’_

‘Same here,’ said Dirk, beaming. ‘I didn’t sleep that well last night, so they doped me up to my _eyeballs_ today _._ A nurse said I could take you for a walk!’

Todd narrowed his eyes. ‘Was said nurse aware that you were currently doped up to your eyeballs?’

‘Who am I to define the concept of awareness?’ Dirk said airily. ‘It’s stopped raining, though, and I stole you a lovely wheelchair. Brought you,’ he corrected. ‘I _brought_ you a lovely wheelchair.’

Todd quirked an eyebrow. Then he grinned. ‘All right. Let’s take her for a spin.’

*

‘I assumed,’ Todd said, watching ducks drift past on the river. ‘That I would have developed some sort of – garden-related trauma. But this is okay.’

They were sitting side by side on a picnic blanket Dirk had materialised somehow, with Todd’s wheelchair parked beside them. A fat black labrador ran up to them, sniffed Dirk’s hand, then rolled around in the crinkling leaves. In the distance its owner shouted, ‘Sausage! Sausage!’

‘I’m glad it’s autumn,’ said Dirk.

‘Same,’ said Todd. He thought seeing a bee or a rose would mess with his head right now. ‘Dirk, can you tell me what’s happening with Blackwing?’

Dirk nodded, watching the labrador gambol away. ‘When we broke out as kids, Mona and I were very scared and confused, so it was messy – she blasted through a few random cell doors and then we just ran for our lives, and the second we were in the clear she turned into a pencil and wouldn’t turn back.

‘This time it was different. I talked to everyone that got out, and we’re all working together, and it turns out – we’re very powerful, Todd. We’re more powerful than them. One of the escapees was called Suyin.’ Dirk hesitated, and then his face went scarily blank. ‘She’s been in there for twenty years. Heavily medicated.’

His eyes went back to normal, and he gave Todd a sad smile. ‘But she’s free now, thanks to you.’

Todd shook his head – it was luck that had saved them, not him – but Dirk was still talking. ‘Suyin makes people see things, anything she likes, and she can set up illusions that exist indefinitely.’

‘The garden,’ said Todd.

‘Yes,’ said Dirk. He lowered his voice. ‘And for us, fake documentation. But most importantly, Suyin’s disguised herself. Guess who’s the new Director of Blackwing.’

‘What?’ said Todd sharply.

‘Yes,’ said Dirk. ‘She’s bloody gone back in there, to keep us all safe. Who knows if the CIA will work out her ruse, but the Rowdy Three disabled the alarms and security footage and Suyin did damage control, so as far as the CIA knows, Blackwing is intact, the threat’s been contained, and all of us are still in there.’

‘That’s – unbelievable,’ said Todd. He was privately not willing to accept it could be this easy.

But he’d had enough of fear, enough of the way it took control of his mind and pushed out everything else. For now they were free and they were safe. He was going to grab this unexpected happiness with both hands and hold on tight.

Before he could speak, though, Dirk said, in a careful, rehearsed way:

‘In high-pressure situations, feelings can get – warped. People sometimes do things they wouldn’t normally do.’

‘What?’

‘We don’t,’ Dirk said, ‘have to – let’s just – we can just go back to how it was before –’

‘Is that what you want?’

Dirk looked unhappy. ‘Isn’t it what you want?’

Todd scowled at the river. ‘My feelings weren’t warped,’ he said. ‘I don’t regret it.’

Dirk didn’t answer, and so Todd closed his eyes, reining himself in. ‘But if – if you don’t feel the same, then I’ll understand. We can still be friends, Dirk.’

Dirk brought his knees up to his chin, hugged his legs.

‘It’s not that I don’t – I haven’t ever,’ he said, flushing, then cleared his throat. ‘People don’t tend to – hang around. I tend to be followed by a tornado of chaos, so.’

‘I’ve noticed,’ Todd said.

‘It’s just – I don’t know how to do this. I don’t _do_ this,’ said Dirk desperately.

‘Okay,’ said Todd. ‘That’s okay. Do you – want to try anyway?’

Dirk looked at him, tears in his eyes. ‘What if it goes wrong?’

‘You know, Dirk, things have gone pretty fucking wrong already and I’m still here. Why do you think I’ve stuck around? For the peaceful lifestyle? The non-existent money?’

‘I don’t–’

‘Isn’t it obvious,’ said Todd quietly.

‘But you’ll get hurt again, Todd, and I can’t–’

‘Well, how do you think it feels for me?’ Todd said angrily.

Dirk looked taken-aback.

‘Am I supposed to go _sit at home_ while you’re dealing with–’ he swept his hand expansively through the air– ‘the cases, and the Blackwing shit, and the broken universe, and this upcoming “holistic war” thing? And just – not have goddamn nightmares about you all the fucking time?’ He was almost shouting now; a couple of birds fluttered away.

Dirk was looking at him in shock.

‘Not to _mention,’_ Todd thundered, ‘your complete lack of common sense and self-preservation instincts. It’s a full-time job worrying about you as it is, and since I’m going to worry about you either way, it’d be significantly easier on me if you let me do it where I can see you.’

Dirk didn’t look on the verge of tears any more. He was staring at Todd like Todd was an alien.

Todd saw he had gone too far, and flushed with shame.

‘I’ll,’ said Todd shakily. ‘Sorry. That was – God. I can – I’ll go back to my room and –’

Dirk kissed him.

Todd went still with shock. When he responded he was so enthusiastic that he knocked Dirk over, on his back into the grass. Todd followed after, planted his arms on either side of Dirk’s shoulders. For a second he paused for a breath, smiling down at Dirk, who beamed up at him and reached to pull Todd closer, and he realised that studded around them in the grass were dozens of tiny, white-and-pink daisies.

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: Torture – mostly electrocution, mostly implied rather than shown. One scene with bone breakage. One scene where a main character is shot several times, non-lethally, with the intent of inflicting pain. A main character has a near-death experience. Gas-lighting, black-mailing, mind games. Mentions of child abuse. Panic attacks. Canon-typical gun violence, i.e. a lot of bad guys are shot.
> 
> Also, I wanted to say – I'm sorry I made Ken evil in this. We really don't need more negative/violent portrayals of black men right now. I needed a supervillain and he was there, but I like to imagine that what really happens after S2 is Ken remembers his heart, helps Bart take down Blackwing and free all the prisoners, and then they drive that taxi into the sunset together, Bart's maniacal laughter echoing after them.
> 
> Come say hi on [Tumblr](https://douxamers.tumblr.com):)


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